“Wow, I didn’t realize so much time had passed. I hope we didn’t overstay our welcome,” he said to the Nileses. They laughed, shaking their heads in an almost identical fashion.
“Don’t be silly! Time flies when you’re having fun, after all,” Alice said, smiling at him.
Damien returned the smile. “I really did have fun.”
“So did I!”
“Before you go, Damien,” Camille said, calling him into the kitchen, leaving Hakan and Alice in the living room.
Damien followed, putting his hands out as she handed him a small book. The hard cover was covered with green material, the words Recipes of Old in gold, leathery writing on the front.
“I want you to have this,” Camille said. Damien looked at her in confusion. “These are old family recipes, collected through the generations. Pack members are given one when they come of age, and they are guarded within the family. I entrust you with them, as I know you will honour them and keep them safe.”
Damien stared at her, completely speechless for a moment. He looked down, cracking the spine open. The pages were glossy, depicting high-quality photocopies of hand-written recipes.
“I…I couldn’t possibly accept this,” Damien stuttered.
“Dear boy, why ever not? It is your due.”
“My…how, I mean, that—I wasn’t the one who, this is too much, I—”
“Boy, I will forgive you the implication that you know what is due more than I do,” Camille said, managing to sound stern and playful at the same time. Damien flushed. “I know exactly what your input was in the collection and imparting of the information you just shared. Information which will be incredibly valuable to us and will help us maintain balance within our pack. You did not give us something material, but what you have done—the care with which you did it—has tremendous value. You know of the balance of Ousía. You must know the value of your actions, and imparted information should be repaid in kind. These recipes are yours because it is your due. That is not decided by you. That is the way of Ousía.”
“I…I mean,” Damien took a deep breath. “Thank you.” He didn’t know what else to say.
Camille looked at him with shrewd, penetrating eyes. “Damien of the Salgado pack…there is something clouding your sight. To maintain balance in the world, in your life, you must know your true value. Not the value you feel. The value that is. And accept nothing less but something of equal value from others. If you consistently accept less than what you are from others, you will fool yourself into believing you are less. Your life will not find balance that way.”
Damien’s first instinct was simply to correct her and say that he wasn’t part of the Salgado pack. His second impulse was to tell her that she didn’t know enough about him to know his true value.
“Thank you for your advice. And thank you for this gift—”
“Payment.”
“Excuse me, payment. You have been very generous,” Damien finished.
Camille shook her head. “You didn’t listen to a word I said. I have not been generous. I have been fair.”
Damien opened his mouth, thought better of it, and closed it again. He simply nodded. They were obviously on different pages on the matter.
They returned to the living room to find Alice and Hakan on the couch, talking. For a moment, Damien had to pause and look at the scene. They looked beautiful together. Alice’s playful eyes and smile were the perfect juxtaposition of Hakan’s more serious expression.
It was a bittersweet happiness that coursed through Damien.
Hakan got up as he spotted Damien. They thanked both Nileses for their hospitality as Damien tucked the recipe book safely in his bag.
“We will see each other again, Damien of the Salgado pack,” Camille said. Damien looked at Hakan, wondering if he was going to jump in to correct her, but he just raised his eyebrows at Damien as if to ask, What?
Damien turned to Camille. “I hope so, Kephalē of the Niles pack. Good luck.”
“And threefold to you.”
**********
The train rattled around them. The lights were low and the black landscape streaked past outside. Damien watched the trails of light through his own reflection.
“Alice was nice, right?” he asked, turning towards Hakan, who was reading in the seat next to him. Hakan’s eyebrows twitched, but he nodded, not taking his eyes off the page. Damien watched him for a moment. “How does it work, if two members from different packs get together? Like, it must happen a lot, right?”
This time, Hakan looked up from the book. “It depends, I guess. On their status in the pack, the responsibility they hold…where they want to live, if they have a preference on which pack they want to belong to. You can only have a pack bond with one pack, one Kephalē, but there are other types of bonds that you would retain with the pack you left.”
“So…if you married Alice, for example, since she’s going to be Kephalē, you’d join her pack and she’d be your Kephalē, and your mom wouldn’t be, but you’d, like, still have some bond with the Salgado pack?”
“Uh, yeah. That’s a far-fetched example but, yeah.”
“Far-fetched why? I thought you two looked good together. She seemed into you,” Damien said. Hakan stared at him for so long that Damien began to shift awkwardly. “What?” he said defensively.
“You’re serious.”
“What?”
“Damien…she was completely into you.”
“No she wasn’t!”
“You’re actually serious. You really didn’t realize.”
“She wasn’t! I notice when people show interest,” Damien muttered.
“Sexual interest, maybe, but you’re completely blind to love.”
“Love? Okay, I think you’re taking it a little far there,” Damien said, rolling his eyes.
After a moment, Hakan sighed, tilting his head back against the headrest and closing his eyes.
“Okay, Hakan, I think you’re being a little melodramatic. It would be super weird to join a pack that wasn’t yours, anyway,” Damien said offhandedly. Hakan immediately straightened, glaring into the distance. Damien snorted. “Okay, wolf-man. We all know your feelings on pack. Calm down,” Damien said, poking him in the side. Hakan sighed again, thumping his head back.
Damien left him to his dramatics.
*****
They arrived at Hakan’s under the fig leaf of darkness. They stepped into the still apartment, the door closing behind them, sealing them inside the black. Damien turned around to grope for the light when he jumped, startled by the reflective yellow of Hakan’s half-moon eyes.
“Oh, crap. You scared me,” Damien laughed.
The eyes didn’t blink. Hakan’s silhouette gained shape and depth as the darkness grew accustomed to Damien’s human sight. Something in Damien tensed and stilled, sensing danger.
“Hakan?” Damien whispered. His heart was the crescendo of a beating drum.
Hakan moved forwards. Slowly. Slowly, until Damien’s back was pressed against the door. Hakan’s hands came up and he divested himself of his own coat before stripping Damien of his. Damien let himself be shifted about, his arms extended one by one, the weightlessness of his stolen jacket leaving him vulnerable to the elements. He was pressed further into the door. It was disappear into it or into Hakan.
Hakan kissed him like he was enjoying a meal of prey. Slow, languid. Possessive. The want was the scent of blood in the air.
“I want to fuck you,” the darkness around Damien said in Hakan’s voice.
Damien melted into it.
He was flesh and racing heart on Hakan’s bed. Hakan’s naked mouth and naked body consumed him slowly. Each piece was left as nothing more than heat.
Damien arched as Hakan pressed two of his fingers inside. Felt their slide and stretch, the rhythm of Hakan through them.
The pleasure was a slow build. The rub of his prostate again, and again, and again, like Hakan was building a fire with care. The
kindling of Damien’s bones and skin flared to life under Hakan’s magnesium eyes.
“Please, please, please,” Damien said. Hakan’s body pressed over him, the shroud of the night. The sweet feel of its attention, of its distant light.
Damien rolled onto his stomach as Hakan’s fingers slipped out. He hitched his hips up, curved his spine. Hakan’s hands gripped his hips for a moment. He kissed the base of Damien’s spine, trailing his lips up until he reached his neck. He lingered there, their bodies pressed together for a moment, the heat everywhere.
Hakan shifted, his hand reaching down to guide himself, and then he was pressing inside Damien. The thick length stretched him slowly, making Damien feel every inch.
“Yes,” Damien hissed, dropping his head down to the mattress. This was what he wanted. That feeling of fullness. Of Hakan.
Hakan moved inside him in the darkness. There was no sight. It was all scent, touch, taste. It was a build of Hakan until he was everywhere, his arms wrapped around Damien and fucking him deep.
The pleasure coalesced, gaining form and gravity until it became a pinpoint that radiated out suddenly, taking everything but Hakan’s name from Damien’s mind.
Damien was kept from collapsing by Hakan’s arms. It was only a few moments later when he felt Hakan come inside him, the hot wetness of him that dripped slowly out of his hole when Hakan finally pulled out.
It took Damien thirty minutes to convince himself to get out of Hakan’s bed so he wouldn’t fall asleep. It felt like he was leaving a piece of himself behind.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Although Damien had embraced casual sex when he first arrived at Eketon, his number of hook-ups had decreased significantly since he started having sex with Hakan. Not only because of the time he spent with Hakan, but because his desire for anybody else had dwindled in the face of what he already had.
There were times, however, when a situation aligned itself with something that Damien suddenly wanted. In these cases, he never abstained. He didn’t let any guilt or sense of disloyalty guide his actions. He had to clearly define what he had with Hakan as something separate from a monogamous, romantic relationship, lest he fall into his own trap.
Lenard was one of the few people he’d had a friends-with-benefits relationship with at the start of the school year. He’d drawn Damien in straightaway with his slightly crooked right incisor, the way he would smile unabashedly, his twinkling eyes as he tried to deadpan dry humour.
Lenard was easy to get along with, and a party found Damien and him secluded in a corner of the yard, laughing as Lenard tried to teach Damien a clapping game from his childhood.
“No!” they both cried out as they messed up after almost three minutes of synchronicity before dissolving into giggles.
Lenard took advantage of their lean towards each other to press a kiss to Damien’s mouth. Damien hesitated for a moment before returning the kiss.
They stumbled to Lenard’s dorm room half-tipsily before falling into bed together.
It was smiles and skin and the press of lips. Damien had drunk a little more than usual and was foggy with it, with Lenard’s body against his own.
Damien’s hands were above his head, for some reason. He pulled them down, but Lenard was holding them fast. No, Lenard’s hands where in Damien’s hair. Damien pulled away from the kiss, flat on his back, turning his head to the side to break it.
“What…?” He pulled again at his arms, but he could feel it now. He tilted his head and saw the shirt tying his pressed wrists to the headboard.
His mind short-circuited. His body came online.
He could feel it now.
He pulled at the bind again, but it only seemed to tighten, Jesus, it was just a T-shirt, why wouldn’t it—
“Wait! Damien, stop. Wait, you’re making it worse!”
Damien was making it worse. He was making it worse. He couldn’t move, he was making it worse.
“Calm down, I’ll—fuck it’s so tight, you’ve got to stop moving, Damien, I can’t get this knot undone.”
He was making it worse.
The voice disappeared. Damien couldn’t see anything. He could smell Mrs. McKenzie’s perfume. It was a suggestion in the air. Powder and flowers. It smelt good. His stomach heaved with it.
How many times had she told him? How many times had she had to repeat the same thing, Damien? Sit down. How many times? Do you think that other people need to be told this many times? Look at me. I’m trying to help you, Damien. I’m trying to help you get better. Be better, because this isn’t normal, is it? These ropes are going to help you. You need help, don’t you, Sweetie? Don’t squirm. You’re just making it worse.
His hands were free. She’d let him go. He looked around to see what her expression was today. He’d need to look at it to know what type of day it would be.
There was a stranger on the bed with Damien. He looked scared. His face was washed of colour like a badly saturated picture. Damien couldn’t quite catch his breath.
“What, what—”
“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m, fuck, I’m so sorry,” the pallid photograph was saying.
When Damien was six, he used to sit with his dad in the living room whilst he graded papers. It would be four thirty on the dot when Puzzlemania would start on the TV. The camera would zoom onto the face of a grinning man to the sound of applause.
“Welcome to…Puzzlemania!” he would say to the crowd. Damien would cheer along.
One of the manic puzzles of Puzzlemania involved the contestants having to guess what a blurred image depicted as it came into focus, section by section.
A parted mouth rounded in an O. S-o-rry. Hair brown, dishevelled. The sound of panting in a room. An animal. No, no! A boy! The smell in the air, what is that? Sweat.
Hands, hovering over you. They won’t touch you. They’re afraid, too.
That’s the smell! Fear. I knew I recognized it.
Someone is saying a word, let’s see if you can guess what it is!
D-A-M-I-E-N
Damien! Yes, Damien. Damien? Hey. Hey.
I think I know what it is. There’s a body on a bed. The mattress, sheets, you can move your hands now.
Damien?
There’s another person. It’s not a photograph, they’re right there! Another word. This one you have to drag out of your brain.
M-C-K
No. No.
L-E-N-A-R-D
That’s right. Lenard.
“Lenard?”
“Yeah. Hey. Hey. Are you okay?”
Are you okay? The picture is revealed in its entirety.
No. He was not okay.
“Yes. Sorry. I, I don’t know what happened there.” Damien sat up. He was dizzy. His hands were trembling. His mouth was dry.
“I, I’m really sorry. I didn’t know. I should have…I’m really sorry.”
“What for?” Damien looked around. Right. “Oh, it’s okay. I have to go, though.”
“Are you sure? Damien, look, maybe sit for a while and—”
“Nah, I’m totally fine.” He locked his knees as he got up. It felt like he was falling, but he was just bending forwards to pick up his clothes.
“Are you sure? You can stay.”
“No, I’m good. Thanks, though.”
Wallet, keys, phone. Damien had everything, except whatever was making him feel the hollowness inside.
“See ya,” Damien said and stepped out. Lenard hovered at his door. Damien disappeared.
He teletransported to his room. He blinked and he was there.
Something bad was happening. Something—something bad was happening.
Damien took off his jacket. He couldn’t breathe with it on. Everything was warm and too tight. Something was suffocating him.
He took off his shoes. His sweater.
He was shivering. It was so hot in the room, but his teeth were chattering.
He crawled under the desk. God, he was pathetic. He was pathetic.
&nbs
p; Damien curled himself into a ball. He couldn’t breathe. He was moonlight, he was the dirt, the slime, the mould that grows where you don’t want it. He was—
Pathetic. Pathetic.
His phone was in his hands. Damien tried to breathe. He could breathe. He could breathe.
Damien
Can you come over?
There was a pause, pause, pause.
Hakan
Trying to finish a project. Tomorrow?
Damien stared at the phone.
Pause. Pause. Pause.
Hakan
You okay?
Damien muted the phone, putting it face down on the floor.
There was something wrong with his chest. He rubbed his wrists. He could feel them ache.
He was sinking. It was a familiar place. The nothingness.
Damien jumped. It was a knock on the door. There was somebody there. He couldn’t let anybody see him like this.
He covered his mouth with his hand like he used to do to keep quiet at night, before. Before the ropes started.
“Damien? Damien, it’s me. Can you open the door?” It was Hakan. His voice sounded strained. Damien blinked. Hakan could probably smell his terror from a block away.
Damien crawled from under the table. Hakan couldn’t see him like this, so pathetic. He opened the door.
Hakan. Damien’s body swayed, not knowing if it wanted to go forwards or backwards. The decision was made for him. Hakan stepped forwards, wrapping Damien in his arms.
In that exact moment, everything broke.
A shredded sob heaved out of Damien. Everything was flayed open by Hakan’s presence. At its core, that was love. It was an automatic lowering of defences, whether you wanted it or not.
Damien didn’t have it in him to protest as Hakan scooped him up, closing the door and heading towards Damien’s bed. Damien clung to him even as they lay on the bed. He pressed himself against the familiar body, his face buried in Hakan’s neck.
Damien cried like a child, with his chest and belly. Full, choking sobs that left his mouth pasty, his nose clogged. It was a deluge of swamp water ransacking the land, a burst of festering liquid that had been kept to curdle for far too long.
In This Iron Ground (Natural Magic) Page 23
